


Pirate Queen

by darling_pet



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Begging, Costumes, F/M, Light Bondage, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Roleplay, Roughness, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_pet/pseuds/darling_pet
Summary: Once a month, you and Sherloque have a very, extra special night: Roleplay night.





	Pirate Queen

Once a month, you and Sherloque have a very, extra special night.

Roleplay night - complete with costumes, a basic premise, and a whole lot of sex.

Tonight on the agenda: a Pirate Queen and her sexy French prisoner.

“What is your name?” you growl, pacing around your boyfriend. Currently, you have Sherloque chained to the bed’s headboard, where he sits up against it looking like sex on a fucking stick. Before tonight’s little roleplay game began, you made sure he looked as a hot-ass eighteenth-century prisoner should - long dark hair tied back behind his head with gorgeous wayward strands falling in his face, a long white, billowy shirt (ripped open, naturally), and body glistening with sweat (or if you’re being technical about pre-production, it’s water in a spray bottle).

“Sherloque Wells, ma’am,” he replies with sparkling eyes. For a man who’s supposed to pretend to be your prisoner, he sure looks like he’s having a blast. But hell, you know you are too.

“Sherloque Wells, eh?”

“Sherl-_oque_,” he smirks.

“Silence!” you snap in character. Leaning down over him, Sherloque stares down the deep-V of your own billowy shirt, just as you hoped he would. In your black thigh-high heeled boots, you lift your foot to rest on the edge of the bed. Your black skirt inches upward. “Tell me, sailor, what were you doing in my waters?”

“I did not know,” he plays along, swallowing, “but please, I beg of you, let me go.”

“Oh no, you’re not going _anywhere_.” 

You grasp Sherloque’s pulled-back hair and give it a yank, knowing he likes it a little rough. He grunts, which quickly melds into a moan. When you tug, it leaves his neck exposed in the most glorious way - like it’s just begging for you to sink your teeth into it. With his hair in your grasp, you feel incredibly powerful. Like you really are some kind of dangerous Pirate Queen.

You think it must have been the initial hair pull that got to him because his body is now at _half-mast_.

“Tell me,” you start, moving to straddle his lap to unleash and play with his growing excitement, “where is the treasure? I know you’ve found it. Give it to me.”

Sherloque breathes hard but gives you a resolute look. He won’t tell you. Not in a million years.

“Must I resort to… _torture_, sailor?” you ask, sliding your conveniently bare sex against his hardness, coating him. He groans, and there’s that neck again.

“Mercy,” he exhales, shutting his eyes. His shirt now barely hangs onto his body anymore. He’s just shoulders, arms, and chest.

“Never.”

You pull him and guide his length to your entrance, where you sink your needy self onto him. Sherloque makes a stuttered noise, mouth still hanging open. You take it upon yourself to capture that mouth with your own where you take his bottom lip between your teeth. He grunts, and you smirk. Your fingernails scrape down his exposed chest, his abs, all the while you gyrate against him. _Ah… “torture” is amazing._

“No more,” Sherloque begs in character, along with a wink. “Please, _Dieu_, no more.”

So naturally, you pick up the pace and grasp his jaw in your hand.

“Give. It. To. Me,” you snarl. Sherloque grits his teeth, jaw tightening and thrusts his hips upwards. You let out a high-pitched moan and he repeats it until you’re practically crying these desperate sounds. With the flame inside you blazing, begging to be both extinguished and continue burning, you ride him incessantly, chasing the climax that is right _there_.

It’s a wild finish - frantic with movements, whines and cries and French swears.

Spectacular.

You roll off of him and give yourself a moment to catch your heaving breath.

“That was fantastic,” you say to the ceiling, dazed. Sherloque gives an exhilarated sigh of agreement.

“It really was.”

You almost forgot he’s still tied to the headboard, so you undo his binds and let him rub his wrists once he’s free. Sherloque locks eyes with you, only waiting for a second before pinning you down underneath his sheened body.

“What do you say to a brief intermission?” he asks. “Costume change, perhaps?”

“Mm, does that mean you’re the nasty pirate this time, then?” you ask.

“Only if you want.”

“Oh, I want,” you agree, pressing a kiss to his lips and let your fingers run through his hair. “I can’t wait to be your love slave, Captain.”

“Arrrh,” he rolls his tongue while diving down to kiss your neck furiously, where you start to have a fit of giggles.


End file.
